


Thursday is Stew Night

by nonnie



Category: Supernatural RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnie/pseuds/nonnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha leads a group of survivors in a Zombie Apocalypse, Jared would kind of like to join them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday is Stew Night

"Is that a throne?"

Jared stares pointedly at the overgrown piece of furniture and at the man sprawled upon it. He can't decide if the guy is trying to look like a smug asshole or if he just is a smug asshole, but thinking about it is distracting him from his hunger at least. Or mostly, any way. He swears he smelled something cooking when he was first brought (more like marched) through the place and his mouth hasn't stopped watering since.

"Hmm? Oh." The man shifts sideways to look up at the chair back that reaches at least a foot above his head. "No, just a chair. I think we found it in the attic with half a dozen boxes of porn behind it. That was a good day." He turns back and sets both his feet on the floor, leaning forward with a smile. "So! I'm Misha, the glorious leader of this mecca until such a time as I don't want to be or I die horribly. That's Barry behind you. Don't worry, he usually doesn't look that pissy, I think he just doesn't like people who are taller than him. What can we do for you, Mister... ?"

"Jared. It has lions for arms."

"Huh?"

"The chair." Jared crosses his arms over his chest. He's not really sure how to take this. Sure, the only way to survive any more is to have a sense of humor about it, but he's either being played with or he's stuck in an enclosed space with a genuine madman and it's enough to make anyone twitchy.

"Oh. Well, it makes me feel important." Misha smiles, rubbing one hand over the golden carved mane of one lion. "I had a tiara to go with it once but I traded it to a little girl for her dog."

"Okay." He has to be fucking with him now. Has to be. "Look, I- I mean why the hell else would I be here? I want to stay here. Power in numbers, yay humanity, I'm tired of the sound of my own damn breathing, whatever. I need a place to be, man."

"All good reasons." Misha sits back again and runs a had through his hair, looking almost honest for a second. "I need better than that to take on another mouth though. You barely brought anything with you, apparently you're about as sneaky as a rhino near campfire and you don't even have a fucking gun. How did you even get out here?"

"I lost my gun, okay. And I walked. I walked though cars and towns and dead fields with, I swear to fucking God, zombie cows in them and I lost my gun and I still got here. That's gotta be worth something, right? I mean, shit, you took a dog in, I can't be more trouble than a dog. Opposable thumbs, already a point in my favor!"

Misha is staring at him with a combination of curiosity and caution. "Uh... we ate the dog."

Jared's poker face must be shit, because Misha's stare turns into a wounded frown.

"Oh come on, don't give me that face! It's leg was broken and it was going to die any way. I told the little girl it went to puppy survivor camp and we made sure she ate the other stew. Jesus, I'm not a monster."

Jared sucks his lips between his teeth and looks at the floor, surprised that what he's holding in is laughter, not horror. Very possibly the hysterical kind, though. And apparently his poker face hasn't improved in the past half a minute.

"It's not funny!" The quaver in Misha's voice proves he doesn't really believe that, though. He should. They both should, but they don't. "Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit." He hops up with a long sigh and walks to Jared's side, shaking his head. C'mon, Spot, I'll take you to dinner. Maybe we can teach you some new tricks to make you useful."

Jared follows his lead towards the door. "It's not stew, is it?"

"Would you say no if it was?"

"I might."

For a moment, Misha gets that honest look again, giving Jared a sad half-smile. "Liar."


End file.
